


When the Laterose Blooms

by KazenoShun



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazenoShun/pseuds/KazenoShun
Summary: She didn’t notice at first, she was too busy tending to the fallen warrior. In truth, she pretended not to notice even after Martin was out of the danger zone.For the fourth week of the Redwall Challenge - Prompt: Death





	When the Laterose Blooms

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry for having this up late

She didn’t notice at first, she was too busy tending to the fallen warrior. In truth, she pretended not to notice even after Martin was out of the danger zone. Abbess Germaine was not a superstitious mouse, but she could not deny what was right before her eyes. It was inconspicuous enough that she doubted any other beast had noticed, especially with all the clean up to be done after the battle. And so she kept quiet about the flowers that grew every day by the place where Martin slept. Most of the flowers were useful to her, various plants she could use for healing, and all were brightly colored. It was, perhaps, the only real cheer near the warrior. And if was for that reason that Germaine did not try to stop the flowers from growing. After all the things he had endured in his journey to free Mossflower, the Abbess knew that Martin had earned a small bit of beauty to stay near him.

It was a bright, sunny morning many days after Martin had faced Tsarmina. Abbess Germaine smiled at the beauty that was Mossflower Wood as she made her daily walk around the lake that had consumed Kotir. Her smile faded, however, as she caught sight of a patch of wildflowers. A rose bush had grown up near Martin’s cot two days before, but it had yet to bloom, just as Martin had yet to wake. It was becoming worrying that Martin stayed asleep so long. His fever was gone, his wounds had begun to heal, even the terrible nightmares that had plagued him after the battle seemed to have gone, and yet the warrior did not wake.

“Good morning, Mother Abbess.” Columbine’s gentle greeting broke the Abbess from her thoughts, and she turned to her pupil with a smile.

“And a good morning to you, Columbine. Are you ready for this evening?”

Columbine blushed, her eyes twinkling as she stared at her footpaws. “Nearly, Mother Abbess. I’ve just got to finish the last few seams on my dress. It was wonderfully kind of Miz Bella to give me the cloth.”

Germaine patted Columbine’s paw. “Indeed it was, my child. Come, walk with me to Martin’s tent.” They walked together around the last stretch of the lake to the camp that had been set up after the departure of Tsarmina’s once great army.

“Mother Abbess,” Columbine said quietly as they reached Martin’s tent.

“Yes my child?”

“Do you suppose Martin will wake soon? I know Gonff would dearly love to have him present this evening.” The maid’s smile had faded, and when she turned Germaine could see worry in her eyes.

Germaine sighed, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I do not know, my child. I had hoped he would be awake by now, yet still he sleeps on. It seems only time will tell if our warrior will ever awake again.” She patted Columbine’s paw gently. “Don’t give up hope just yet, though, he’s survived this long. We shall just have to have faith that he’ll return to us. Now, run along and finish your stitching. We wouldn’t want you to be late to your own wedding, would we?”

“No, Mother Abbess, we wouldn’t.” Columbine smiled and hurried off to work on her gown.

“And I shall return to my duties as healer,” Germaine murmured to herself as she watched Columbine hurry away. Lifting the flap of the tent, she turned to see what state she would find Martin in today. It was warm in the tent, dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the cloth ceiling. The air was heavy with the scent of roses. Germaine found herself staring at the rosebush, which had blossomed overnight. Already the ground below the bush was carpeted in petals as red as blood. A quick glance at Martin told the Abbess that he was still sleeping, though a faint smile played about his lips. Satisfied that nothing had changed with the warrior, Germaine returned her attention to the rosebush.

Why she did not scream at that moment would never be quite clear to the Abbess. The rosebush remained as it had when Germaine entered the tent, but now a mousemaid sat within the branches. She was nearly transparent in the dim light, though when she turned to Germaine her eyes were the softest brown the Abbess had ever seen.

“Hello,” the maid said.

Abbess Germaine remained frozen, unsure if what she was seeing was real. But the maid remained where she was, her gentle eyes following the Abbess. Germaine slowly settled on the ground, still watched by the maid.

The maid smiled at her, returning her gaze to Martin. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“You know Martin?” Abbess Germaine asked.

The maid nodded. “Once, when he lived in the north. He was a very dear friend. I wish I could have come south with him, but if that had been the case then he likely would not have come.”

Abbess Germaine watched as the maid’s ghostly paw passed over Martin’s brow, as though she could actually touch him. “I see.” It suddenly made sense, how the maid was able to appear without a sound. “Have you come to take him away?”

The maid did not answer for a long moment. “No. He has spent enough time away for now. I have come to bring him back.”

Martin stirred slightly in his sleep, sighing gently before falling back into uninterrupted slumber.

“Must we wait much longer for him?” Abbess Germaine asked quietly.

The maid shook her head. “I think he shall awake by nightfall.” She smiled softly at the sleeping warrior. “I have only one request, Mother Abbess.”

“Yes, my child?”

“Continue to take care of him, please. His life has not been easy. I would do it myself, but I am no longer able.” A ghostly tear slid across the maid’s cheek, and Germaine felt her heart open to the youngster.

She smiled at the maid. “I shall do whatever I can.”

The maid’s quiet ‘thank you’ faded with her, and within moments it was as if she had never been there. Germaine remained seated on the ground, alone in the tent except for the sleeping warrior and the rosebush. A thousand questions sprang to her mind, yet she knew she would never ask them. For death to come to one so young, she was sure the tale must be tragic. But the maid, whoever she had been, had cared enough to return Martin to them, and that would have to be enough.


End file.
